


Promises We Never Made

by Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, BAMF Stiles, Implied Torture, Implied Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 13:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17387567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: Peter runs off to wreak havoc without telling Stiles where he's going. Then Stiles has to rescue him.





	Promises We Never Made

**Author's Note:**

> written for the "Promise" prompt at fan_flashworks

"I have some family business to take care of," Peter said that day, and gave no other explanation for his sudden departure.

Stiles had to snoop and dig to figure out what was going on. And when he finally did, it was five months later and Peter had died, been resurrected, and then imprisoned in a place called Eichen House.

The first thing Stiles says when he sees Peter again is, "You're such an idiot."

Peter slowly lifts his head. His dull eyes widen. "Stiles?" he rasps.

Stiles stands outside his cell door and tilts his head. "It's a good thing you're _my_ idiot." He's loosely holding a handgun with a silencer by his side. Behind him are the bodies of three guards. 

Peter blinks at him, then rubs his eyes. Slowly, he comes to his feet, though it appears to be difficult for him. Stiles's worry mounts.

Peter looks unsteady and Stiles curses under his breath. "We've gotta get out of here. Can you walk?" Stiles concentrates and waves his hand. The glass between them disappears. Peter staggers closer and Stiles reaches out to catch him in his arms. "It's okay. I'm here," Stiles promises, and lets Peter take a deep pull of his scent.

"Stiles," Peter whispers.

"Later. Let's get out of here." Stiles hates to be so short with him, but time is running out. The next shift will be coming in soon, and Stiles doesn't really want to have to kill a whole other group of people.

He smuggles Peter out the way he came in: right through the front door. The cameras are shorted out already thanks to a little magic, and Stiles scrubs his scent from the building on the way out.

They'll be going back to Boston, and no one will know where to look.

Peter sleeps most of the next day's drive. He startles awake a few times, but as soon as he sees Stiles in the driver's seat, he settles back again. 

Stiles finally has to stop to rest himself once they're two states away. He sets up a warded perimeter around their motel, and gets Peter settled in a bed. There are two double beds in the room, but Stiles can't bear to be that far away. He spoons up behind Peter, holding on, and finally lets himself sleep.

When he wakes again, the sun is streaming into the room and Peter is looking at him.

"I have so many questions," Peter says once he hands Stiles a coffee made just the way he likes.

"Hmm. Tell me where to start," Stiles says into his cup. He blinks at Peter and then reaches out to reassure himself that yes, the man is right there. Safe and whole and alive.

"How did you find me?" Peter asks.

"Well you didn't exactly leave a forwarding address, so I had to get creative," Stiles says with a shrug. He knows it doesn't explain anything, but Peter can guess.

"And the magic?" Peter asks.

Stiles blinks. "I told you I had magic when you did the whole werewolf reveal. Remember? Last Christmas?"

"You never told me you were this powerful," Peter murmurs, though there's a light in his eyes that tells Stiles he doesn't mind so much.

"If I'd told you, would you have let me help you?" Stiles asks. "Or would you have just left anyway?"

Peter clenches his jaw. "I didn't want you tangled up in this. It was dangerous."

"Maybe if you had brought me along, you wouldn't have _died_ ," Stiles says. He tries to make it an accusation, but the last word breaks in his throat and shows just how much he's affected by it.

Peter's eyes soften. "Oh, sweetheart."

Stiles swallows. "Yeah. So you died. Good thing you brought yourself back because I don't know a lot of necromancy, myself."

Peter smiles a little. "I'm sure you could figure it out. You seem powerful enough to-"

"What if I wasn't? What if your plan didn't work? What if I'd found your grave and it wasn't empty?" The emotion is building in his chest. The bedside lamp flickers.

"I'm sorry," Peter says.

"You are never going off on your own again," Stiles says, trying to be stern. "You obviously can't be trusted to watch out for yourself."

Peter winces. "I wasn't thinking. I… when I heard… when I _felt_..."

Stiles reaches out and grabs Peter's hand. Not hard, but enough to establish connection. Comfort. "I'm sorry about your family. Your pack."

Peter looks at Stiles's hand in his and squeezes back. "I was afraid to involve anyone else. I knew it was likely a suicide mission."

"I know we never made any promises," Stiles says slowly. "But… I thought you knew how I felt."

There's guarded hope in Peter's eyes when he meets Stiles's gaze this time. "And how is that?"

Stiles swallows. "Like I said, you're an idiot. I love you, Peter. I know… I know you never asked for that, but. It's how I feel. And you're not getting rid of me, now. Not when I came so close to losing you forever."

For a moment, there's something like awe, like wonder, in Peter's eyes. But then he looks away. "You don't know everything I did."

"What, that you killed your niece? Oh, Derek was happy to tell me all about that," Stiles says blithely, or at least tries to. He knows it's a big deal, but he doesn't want Peter to think it changes how he feels.

"I didn't know what I was doing," Peter says. "The pain from losing so many pack bonds, and then I saw the house, or what was left of it, and Laura didn't even want to go after the hunters who did it…" He trails off. Shakes his head. "But that's just an excuse. I did kill her."

"You regret it?" Stiles asks.

Peter looks down. Nods. 

"I could probably- well, I mean, with some help and a little time, I could probably figure out how to bring her back."

"What?" Peter's eyes go wide at that. "Are you serious?"

Stiles feels his face heat a little. "I'm a Spark, Peter. I can pretty much do anything I want, if I believe enough."

"I'm not sure what to say," Peter says slowly. "Thank you. I…"

"There are strings, of course," Stiles says, ignoring the way his heart starts beating faster.

"Anything," Peter says. His mask is gone. He's the most honest Stiles has ever seen him.

"I want those promises," Stiles says. When Peter looks confused, he explains. "The ones we never made. I want… I want us to be an us, for real." He knows it's manipulative and shitty to ask right now, but he can't stand the thought of being without Peter. 

"Is that all?" Peter asks, sounding genuinely confused. "Sweetheart, I'd give you the world. Hell, I'd give you the world even without my niece's life on offer. You have to know I love you, too."

"You never said," Stiles asks, suddenly feeling lost. "You… do you really?"

Peter's eyes are gentle when he answers. "You're so much younger than me. You have your life ahead of you, I thought maybe I was just… fun. I didn't think you needed me adding too much emotion to that. I wasn't sure my feelings were wanted."

"Idiot," Stiles says, huffing a laugh. He reaches out and pulls Peter close. Kisses his lips gently. "We're perfect together, or haven't you noticed?"

Peter cups his face. "We are. And I'll make all the promises you need. Anything you want."

"Me too," Stiles says, and then gasps into the kiss Peter gives him next. It's not just warm, but there's passion and want there, too. 

It tapers off without turning into more, but they're both exhausted and Peter needs to heal from his ordeal in Eichen House.

They end up closing the drapes and sleeping. Tomorrow, they'll drive across the country and go home. For now, they'll just hold each other, secure in the fact that they both want the same things, and that together they are an unstoppable force. If anything tries to get in the way of their happiness, they won't last long.

And that's a promise.


End file.
